


near decadence

by stochasmos (siderum)



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: A little bit of everything, Drabble Collection, M/M, kuroko no sexual tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:58:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siderum/pseuds/stochasmos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seijuro indulges. Tetsuya lets him. Collection of Akakuro stuff all around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. phantom senses

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Teikou Era.
> 
> Seijuro uses a lot of his senses when he's around Tetsuya. Keeps him on his toes.

Seijuro muses that Tetsuya's presence is in direct correlation to his absence - i.e. when people become cognizant of his lack of aura and scramble over themselves like bumbling fools to ascertain his location (and grossly overreact upon realizing Tetsuya's been present ab initiō).

Their ignorance is almost amusing. Or it would have been, anyway, if he didn't feel a little bit of offense on Tetsuya's behalf.

On the other hand, he has no such problems, commits no such errors, because he accounts for all and every, even if they are not necessarily present. (And by accounting for _everyone_ , tripling the training menu is sufficient for slackers whom he is sure are absent.)

Moreover, he never worries about Tetsuya in terms of propinquity. At every point on the timeline of their interaction, he _knows_.

 

\---

 

It's easy to stand in a room and average out 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit radiating through the bodies of five, diffusing smothered heat throughout, and while everyone is an established constant, he'll feel the sixth (the variable) somewhere near the biggest furnace of them all--6, Daiki.

(Seijuro's shoulders occasionally do the thing where they emulate drying cement as he senses that he will have to take an extra step and divide in half to find the median, isolate the variable and subtract all others for the mean, but it's not a problem if he's doing it for Tetsuya. And he supposes it's natural for Tetsuya to stand next to Daiki, but there's something in Seijuro's chest that dissents. It's loud enough that he can't ignore it.)

It becomes habit, then, to assume Tetsuya's presence at all times. The feel becomes distinct to him; it tastes wispy like mist, but the scent and sight are much more permeating--lavender tinged with vanilla, some sort of bland color that he envisions whenever phantoms come to mind.

 

\---

 

On rare occasions, unburdened by the idea of being absolute, he'll let his mind wander.

~~What Tetsuya tastes like (easy on the palate, no doubt) also, occasionally, comes to mind.~~

 

\---

 

Along the same timeline, Seijuro finds out later. Tantalizingly slow, sweet--god, he's waited for weeks for the rest of the boys to leave the locker rooms in process of being home-bound, to depart before him and his object of perusal. Then he becomes sure of Tetsuya and that slow-smoldering gaze that blazes across the sweat on his skin and somehow chills his bones.

~~He wants to take everything~~

He almost takes everything, tests how much Tetsuya is willing to give. What heats his core is the answer to his challenge. Characteristically, Tetsuya does nothing by halves.

 

\---

 

Tetsuya tastes like the drink he always has at hand on evenings when they all go out.

 

\---

 

Victory is pleasing, a fine wine for tongues who gradually become cultured and acclimated to its variations. Somehow, this--this is different.

For once, Seijuro _thirsts_.


	3. jersey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So it seems that Kuroko looks good in Rakuzan clothing. (He wishes that this revelation didn’t occur to Akashi on the day of the Winter Cup finals.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Akashi's sorry, not sorry.]

The morning of the Winter Cup finals, Kuroko Tetsuya reached out under silken, thousand thread-count sheets to turn off the alarm and accidentally swept it off the nightstand. It impacted the floor with a solid crash and promptly broke. The only source of light in the room was effectively extinguished.

“Thank you, Tetsuya,” a sleepy voice mumbled. It was a little early for sarcasm, but the tone implied the opposite of gratitude.

“Sorry, Akashi-kun.” Kuroko slipped his arm back under the covers to fend off the cold. “Your arm prevented me from a more graceful execution.”

At this, Akashi Seijuro opened one eye and withdrew his arm from across Kuroko’s shoulders. That was the only warning Kuroko got before the sheets were snatched from him. Akashi shifted to the other side of the bed, taking his sheets with him and forming a cocoon of fabric.

The cold melded against Kuroko like a second skin instantaneously. With a sigh, he slid off the bed and pilfered around the room to retrieve his track suit and bag. Upon locating his suit (flung across some chair), he quickly got dressed before frostbite made the first move.

The temperature, unlike now, hadn’t been a problem for them the night before. There had been no time for feeling cold, no time for folding clothes or setting them aside neatly. Kuroko had worn his jersey to Akashi’s house, wore nothing but his skin to bed. Akashi suggested intercourse in basketball uniform. That suggestion was entertained for maybe four seconds, and then the primal, incredibly hormonal need to see each other naked kicked in. (Hands, pressing him into the bed, gentle. Teeth— _anything_ but.)

Kuroko still felt the bites and bruises painted across his collarbones and ribs. At least all marks were made beneath the shoulders.

He stumbled around in the dark for a bit, getting on his knees to feel the floor. There was something jersey-like near the foot of Akashi's bed--but Kuroko palmed it to make sure it was a jersey and not a jacket. Upon confirmation, he shoved it in his bag and got up. 

“See you at noon, Akashi-kun,” he said in the general direction of Akashi's cocoon.

Akashi gave him (or probably the pillow) a brief  _hn_. Kuroko heard a shifting noise, started for the door anyway, but was stopped by Akashi's low, morning voice.

"Tetsuya." (The distribution of syllables was uneven. He personally thought it was endearing.)

"Yes?"

The Rakuzan _Student Council president_ and _captain_ of the basketball team sounded petulant. "Say goodbye properly."

Kuroko took his meaning--a parting kiss on the forehead. He obliged, and Akashi, satisfied, returned to his previous position.

(No matter the outcome of the finals, Kuroko thought, he wouldn’t be too heartbroken.)

 

\---

 

The real problem wasn't being shirtless long enough for his teammates to see.

Ten minutes before the game, Kuroko faced the wall and took off his shirt to avoid unwanted scrutiny on the condition of his front torso. He opened his bag to retrieve his jersey. If he moved quickly enough, he would be able to change without anyone noticing.

This was not what happened.

The real problem was this. The jersey in the bag. Had big letters across the front. In blue.

Kuroko let out a disbelieving cough.

 

 

RAKUZAN

 

 

As if to confirm his grave, _grave_ error, he turned it around. The number 4 stared him right back in the face.

By the time he thought to salvage the situation and shove the jersey back into his bag, Kagami, for once noticing his presence without external aid (and at the most _inopportune_ moment), came over and asked why he was standing as still as a statue.

Kagami, glancing over Kuroko's shoulder before turning to his own locker, saw the jersey.

 

 

 

.

.

.

 

“Kuroko,” he said slowly, uncomprehendingly, incredulously, and all other synonyms of 'what?? the fuck', “why the hell do you have a Rakuzan jersey?”

This drew the attention of all his teammates. Hyuuga was the first to appear beside Kagami, then Riko, then Izuki. Kuroko, cornered, turned around to offer them an explanation that he hadn't come up with yet, but their faces changed the moment he completed his half revolution. Kagami looked like he’d eaten five plates of Riko’s curry. And like he suddenly learned something very clandestine, and _very_ squalid. Hyuuga was probably contemplating if Seirin could make it against Rakuzan based on Kuroko's 'accidental' incapacitation (or if Hyuuga'd get incarcerated for assaulting Rakuzan player #4). But Izuki was the one who  _really_ made Kuroko somewhat nervous.

No puns--not a single one.

“I can’t explain,” Kuroko finally said. His eyes flickered to the clock on the wall; he had eight minutes.

He quickly slipped through them and pulled the jersey over his head as he went—for the sake of decency. The door slammed shut behind him.

That closing door was the only sound made in that minute in the Seirin locker room. Not a single person breathed; not a single person blinked.

 

\---

 

When Kuroko reached Rakuzan’s locker room, Akashi stood outside with the Seirin jersey folded on his arm.

“I apologize,” Kuroko said a little breathlessly. (He ran the distance in little over a minute. A record.)

Akashi’s lips quirked upward, and his gaze raked over Kuroko’s body. Kuroko tilted his head to the side questioningly.

“After the Winter Cup,” Akashi clarified, “wear my jersey again.”

He wasn't sure what made him said it, but: “As consolation, you mean.”

The challenge was heard clearly. Akashi’s eyes, like revived embers, smoldered _._

“For you, perhaps,” Akashi replied smoothly. “I look forward to the game.”

They exchanged jerseys. (Akashi’s gaze was especially intense—searing, scorching—when Kuroko changed right in front of him.)

“Good luck, Akashi-kun."

Akashi didn’t respond, but smiled.

 

\---

 

Kuroko avoided everyone’s gazes when they saw Rakuzan #4 on its rightful owner.

 

\---

 

“You better clear this up later, Kuroko,” Kagami told him when they stepped on court.

“After we win, Kagami-kun.”

 

\---

 

There was something about an award ceremony. The blood pounded in Kuroko's ears a little too hard for him to fully commit the time to memory. His mind was still stuck on the buzzer; and then someone slapped him on the back.

 

\---

 

"Clearing it up," Kagami reminded him when they were back in the locker rooms after the game.

"Kagami-kun," Kuroko said. "I said nothing about you and Aomine-kun when I was there to witness it firsthand."

 

\---

 

The evening of the Winter Cup finals, Kuroko Tetsuya put on an opposing school’s jersey. Akashi appraised him, spun him around twice. (The jersey was dried with sweat. To say the least, it was uncomfortable.)

“Very attractive.”

“This jersey,” Kuroko remarked, squirming slightly, “hasn’t been washed for two days straight.”

He was graced with an innocent smile. Then Akashi's face lit up. (Somehow, it looked ominous.)

“My school uniform next, Tetsuya,” he announced, and immediately went to his wardrobe.

“Akashi-kun is in an extremely good mood."

"I keep my interests distinct,” the redhead answered smoothly, and returned, holding up the Rakuzan uniform. His expression intimated the command to start stripping. 

Kuroko’s shoulders sagged a little. At the end of the day, he anticipated, well, notdress-up.

“I’ll get your uniform dirty,” he protested halfheartedly. “I haven’t showered.”

Akashi sighed. “Tetsuya, you can shower after. These clothes will be soiled anyway.”

Kuroko gave him an uncomprehending look.

A toothy smile was his first response. The second: “Intercourse.”

“Ah, this was Akashi-kun’s plan,” Kuroko noted.

He doubted that Akashi would tolerate any sort of clothing on him for long, but still pulled off the jersey in haste. Akashi  _personally_ dressed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I CHANGED THE SUMMARY AND TITLE OF THE drabble collection because it was too geared towards the first one (and maybe second) and also because i'm bad at things and bad at life
> 
> On a more serious note:
> 
> winner of wc left ambiguous bc i can  
> also i like to think they keep their work at work and then have no qualms being intimate after but??? just me probly


End file.
